


Love or Nothing

by QueenKatelynTheAristocrat



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drag Queens, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Performing Arts, Tour Bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenKatelynTheAristocrat/pseuds/QueenKatelynTheAristocrat
Summary: Tentatively, like he was scared of her reaction, Leonard said, “Chad called, while you were on stage.”At first, the only thing Alaska felt was confusion, and a heavy dose of annoyance. Way to kill my buzz, universe. “What the fuck? Why would he call me?”“I don’t know,” Leonard rushed, “But he made me promise you’d call him back as soon as you got done.”Also known as: an exploration of what happens when a relationship ends but love doesn't go away as easy as one might wish...
Relationships: Sharon Needles/Alaska Thunderfuck 5000
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Love or Nothing

It was nearing the end of her show, and internationally famous drag performer Alaska Thunderfuck was feeling  _ alive.  _ The crowd was cheering, the lights were setting the sequins on her dress ablaze with blue fire, and Alaska was lost in the music, every bit of her -- mind, body, soul -- given over to the illusion, to the performance, and nothing in the world could ever be better than  _ this.  _

It was one of those good nights, the ones where she started thinking of her wig as her “hair” and the weight of her silicone breasts on her chest felt so natural that she almost forgot they weren’t real. Her hips were padded, her nails were done, her heels were seven inches, and her makeup wasn’t even  _ threatening  _ to move. Every inch of her was  _ woman,  _ and she felt feminine power rushing through her veins. Someone in the crowd yelled “ _ Alaska, I love you!”  _

This wasn’t just a good night: it was a  _ great  _ one. 

After all, it hadn’t always been the case that the body she inhabited on the stage felt like  _ hers.  _ It also hadn’t always been the case that she’d sung live in sold-out stadiums filled with people wearing t-shirts with her face on them, but the most delicious part of  _ that  _ was that during this tour, it had become the new normal. 

Every city she performed in was the best city ever, and tonight she wasn’t just a queen performing in Chicago, she was  _ The  _ queen of Chicago. She swore to herself that she would reign benevolently. 

On that stage, she was  _ everything:  _ sexy, gorgeous, sensual. A Goddess. 

_ This  _ was exactly what she’d been born to do. 

Adrenaline pulsing in her veins, her skin glowing pure gorgeous womanly  _ sex,  _ she whipped her blonde hair around a few times, dropped down and rose back up slowly, relishing her last few moments of power before her last song of the night was over. As the song ended, she caught the eye of a hot dark-eyed man whose gaze had been following her all night. 

When he smirked, her heart almost stopped, because for a second he’d looked like -- 

_ NO, Alaska, don’t go there.  _

This was her new life, and  _ he  _ had no place in it. 

Luckily she was back in it before the cheering was over. 

“I’m Alaska Thunderfuck, and I fucking love you!” 

There was cheering. 

“Chicago you’ve been amazing! All of you are gorgeous-amazing-sexy my darlings and I’ll miss you for the rest of my life!” 

More cheering. Alaska relished the fact that she could say anything, call them anything she liked, and still they would cheer. They would believe any outrageous thing she told them. 

She wondered how many people in the audience tonight believed themselves to be in love with her. 

“Farewell and goodnight, my children, and I hope to see you again!” Alaska said, with a final sensual curtsey, “Maybe even out in the wild.” 

She gave an exaggerated lioness’s roar. There were wolf-whistles and screams.

With a few last blown kisses, Alaska exited the stage, but not before bending down to grab the cape she’d used earlier as a reveal for her second outfit, giving the entire audience what she knew was the best view of her ass. There were more screams. 

She looked over her shoulder and waved before finally leaving. Her ears were ringing as she made her way through the backstage area, her high-intensity energy fading to a pleasant exhausted buzz with every step away from the stage. 

After a show like this, she was absolutely drained, boneless, fucking dead on her feet, but there was something about the feeling that was just as  _ amazing  _ as the fire she’d felt while on stage. 

The high she had was better than any weed money could buy, and Alaska had plenty of money. It was the calm that came after the very  _ best  _ overload of the senses, a combination of this absolutely glorious fucked-out feeling like the best sex of her life and the sense of accomplishment and freedom of finishing a marathon she’d spent years training for. All she wanted to do was get to her dressing room, take off her makeup, change into some boy clothes, take off this  _ damn  _ wig, and lay on the couch until she had to get back on the bus. 

Which is why when Leonard, her personal assistant and stylist -- Alaska did her own makeup, picked her own clothing, and styled her own wigs, but Leonard made sure all her shit was in order and ready for each show, and  _ seriously,  _ since she wore four outfits a night and changed wigs once, his job was  _ the  _ most necessary -- who had been standing off to the side of everyone and looking around anxiously, pushed up his glasses and started following her with a determination that she really, truly respected, she pretended she didn’t see him and just kept walking. 

And if maybe she picked up her pace just a little bit as well, who could blame her? She had no more energy left to deal with  _ anything  _ tonight. 

And that was Leonard’s Serious Business face, if Alaska had ever seen it. 

And trust her, she had seen it. 

They only made it a few more feet through the crush of people moving every which way, hurrying to take down the stage, deal with the fans, pack up the bus, as quickly as possible -- Alaska was still amazed that all these people worked for  _ her  _ \-- when Leonard called, “Alaska, wait up!”

Alaska walked faster, making sure not to show any sort of visual sign she’d heard him.  _ Seriously,  _ whatever this was could wait until tomorrow morning on the bus: it wasn’t like the paths of their lives were tragically diverging after tonight, for God’s sake. 

“Alaska! It’s really important, please!” Leonard shouted, loud enough that everyone around them looked over to him with eyebrow raised. Alaska studiously refused to view the fact that this general reaction made it hopelessly clear that she could, in fact, hear Leonard, and was, in fact, ignoring him on purpose. 

They were just a few lone steps away from the safe haven of Alaska’s dressing room, the hallway deserted of anyone but her and her stubborn shadow, when Leonard, sounding so  _ done  _ that  _ Alaska  _ was impressed, stopped abruptly and said, voice angry but no louder than normal speaking volume, “Justin, I swear to unholy  _ Fuck,  _ I know you can hear me, and if you don’t stop this very second, I am not kidding, I will  _ quit my job,  _ right now! I will  _ fucking  _ do it! _.”  _

To Leonard’s credit, this did, most definitely, get Alaska to stop in her tracks.  _ God,  _ the little bastard, he knew just how to push all her buttons. 

She cross-stepped one ankle past the other to spin around in her heels, and said, “Alright, first of all, my name is  _ Alaska.  _ See the wig? Dead give away. Second, I know you better than that. You couldn’t bring yourself to quit this job if you tried.” 

Leonard huffed a laugh. “You never know, I might just mean it this time.  _ Justin. _ ” 

Alaska rolled her eyes. “Fuck you.” 

“Oh, I  _ know,  _ darling, your life is  _ so  _ hard.” Leonard cooed, like he was talking to an upset puppy. 

Alaska held her glare and Leonard held his condescending snark for a few more seconds, and then they both burst into laughter. “Bitch.  _ Honestly _ .” Alaska said. 

“At your service.” Leonard said, with a little bow. 

Alaska sighed, “Alright, you’ve got me. What did you want?” 

Every bit of amusement drained out of Leonard’s face, all at once, and it was replaced by a nervousness that was like an injection of cold water into Alaska’s heart. “Oh God, what?” asked Alaska, when Leonard failed to speak. 

Tentatively, like he was scared of her reaction, Leonard said, “Chad called, while you were on stage.” 

At first, the only thing Alaska felt was confusion, and a heavy dose of annoyance.  _ Way to kill my buzz, universe.  _ “What the fuck? Why would  _ he _ call me?” 

“I don’t know,” Leonard rushed, “But he made me promise you’d call him back as soon as you got done.” 

This was like a blow to the head. Alaska felt dizzy. “You answered the phone?” she could hear it in her voice: she sounded deadly. 

Leonard, bless him, forged on. “At first I let it go to voicemail, but he just kept calling! Like twenty times in a row! So eventually I answered, you know, my classic ‘Alaska isn’t available right now, this is her assistant, how can I help you?’ and he cut me off halfway through asking where you were, when you’d be done, rambling on like a maniac, I swear, he sounded, fucking,... desperate.” 

“How long ago was this?” Alaska asked, annoyance fading into anxiety which was threatening to morph further into panic at any second. 

“About half an hour.” Leonard said. 

“Fuck.” Alaska said, and at that moment a stagehand lugging some equipment appeared sheepishly at the end of the hallway, and Alaska remembered exactly where and when she was. 

She took a deep breath, looked at the young girl in the uniform and forced herself to say, “It’s alright, come on through.” 

The girl nodded as she passed and said, “Thank you, ma’am.” 

Alaska tried to smile back, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded. Once the girl was gone, she looked back at Leonard and said, “Let’s go in my dressing room. Too many ears out here.” 

Leonard nodded and followed her, and it was only once they were inside, Alaska at her vanity and Leonard on the couch that they spoke again. 

“Justin, do you think this is about Aaron?” Leonard asked, all in a rush. 

Alaska didn’t mind him calling her by her real name as much in here, even if she was still in drag. It was a sign of the closeness of their friendship, more than anything else. “What the fuck else would it be? Of course it’s about Aaron.” 

Leonard was quiet for a few seconds, and the look he was giving her was filled with so much sympathy that she had to look away. She didn’t resent him for pitying her. She just wished he wouldn’t do it so openly. 

“You’re going to call back?” he asked. 

Alaska took a deep breath, and wiped under her eyes with her fingers to clean up her eyeliner, and said, “Yeah. I have to.” 

Leonard grimaced in sympathy. “Do you want me to stay?” 

Alaska thought for a moment. Then she shook her head. 

Leonard nodded, and after just looking at her for a moment, he got up and came over to hug her before handing over her cellphone. “If you need me when you’re done, just call. I’ll be around.” 

Alaska could only give a weak smile in answer, but Leonard understood. The moment the door closed behind him, Alaska turned to face the mirror and dropped her head in her hands.  _ God,  _ she was shaking. And she wanted out of this wig -- and these heels -- right the fuck now. But that would have to wait. 

She found Chad’s number in her missed calls, and called back. He picked up at the first ring. “Justin?” 

“It’s Alaska, bitch, get it right.” she drawled. 

She was surprised by how angry Chad was when he answered, “Stop fucking around, I need your help.” 

Leonard was right, he sounded desperate. “What happened.” 

“Aaron. He’s having some sort of… attack. Won’t fucking talk to me. He’s just sitting there shaking in our bed and saying ‘Justin, Justin’ over and over again like a fucking mantra.” Really, Chad didn’t just sound desperate. He sounded like he was at the end of his rope. Like a man holding on to the edge of a cliff who knew his strength was going to fail any minute. 

“Yeah, he does that sometimes.” Alaska said, and she couldn’t help feeling a little smug, in between all her panic and fear: so maybe Chad wasn’t the perfect replacement boyfriend after all. He might work a regular 9 to 5, and Aaron’s parents might love him, and he might prefer the kind of vanilla missionary sex that wouldn’t make your mother blush to think about, but he didn’t know how to fix  _ this.  _ Only  _ Alaska  _ knew how to lead Aaron out from the dark abyss of his own mind. 

“Well, this is the first time I’ve seen it, and I don’t know what to do, so  _ please,  _ Justin.” Yeah, that’s because Chad had been dating Aaron for two months. And Alaska had been with him for seven years. 

“Oh no? Your unskilled yet enthusiastic blow jobs won’t cut it this time?” Alaska couldn’t resist. 

“ _ Fuck  _ you.” 

Just those two words, edges blunted through the phone as if Chad had spit them and drenched in hurt, let Alaska know just how serious this was. 

And she immediately felt like the shittiest human being on the planet. 

“I’m sorry. Let me talk to him.” 

“So you can insult him like that as well?” Chad was angry, and Alaska had no one to blame but herself. 

“Chad, just give him the phone. I know what to do. Please?” Alaska held her breath. 

Chad didn’t speak, but the sound of him walking through the apartment was answer enough. 

It was only a minute later that Alaska heard  _ his  _ voice. “Justin? Or are you still Alaska?” 

She closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry. He sounded like a goddamn  _ wreck,  _ and Alaska couldn’t help blaming herself. “It’s Alaska.” she tried to sound like she wasn’t crying. 

“Oh.” he sounded disappointed, “That isn’t Alaska’s voice, though.” 

She bit her hand to muffle a sob. “No?” she asked. 

“No. You sound like Justin.” 

Alaska breathed in and then breathed out, slowly, so Aaron wouldn’t hear it. 

“Do you want me to be Justin?” she asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Ok. I’m putting you on speaker, and I’m going to start changing back, ok? I’ll let you know when I’m Justin again.” Alaska said, and started doing just that. 

“Alright, Alaska.” Aaron said, and she could hear his voice shake. He was the only person she’d ever known who  _ completely  _ understood the way she transformed when she was in drag. Maybe it was because he did drag himself, although he didn’t do drag like Alaska did: he was still working in that little club where they’d met, where they’d both started out. Lip-syncing to Britney and Cher and dancing for tips. 

She wanted to keep crying, but she knew she couldn’t. Instead she set to work unpinning her wig. Once it was gone, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her soul as well as her head. She dumped the mass of blonde hair on the arm of the couch behind her -- she knew Leonard would understand -- and ran a hand through her sweat-soaked short hair. “Wig’s gone.” she said, to keep Aaron talking. 

“Face next?” he said, but Alaska knew it wasn’t really a question. Aaron had watched her get out of drag a million times. She could see so clearly in her head that soft smile he always wore as he watched her, just as transfixed by the sight of her turning back into Justin as he’d been by watching her become Alaska in the first place. He’s the only person Alaska has ever known who’s loved her both ways. 

“Yeah. Nearly sweated right through it. Wouldn’t even need a makeup wipe if not for the new setting spray I got last week.” Alaska said, trying to distract him until she got through this, makeup already half gone. 

“Urban Decay?” he asked. 

“Mixed with the classic from MAC.” 

“Hmm.” 

Even that syllable emanated anxiety. Alaska couldn’t resist. She didn’t give a damn if Aaron would rather confess to Justin than Alaska tonight; both of them knew every inch of his body and every single secret he had, so it shouldn’t matter which of them he told this to tonight. 

“Aaron, talk to me, please?” she asked, abandoning her used makeup wipe on the vanity and watching her plain, uncovered eyes well up with tears again. 

“I can’t talk to Alaska about this. I’m not Sharon right now.” Alaska should have known better than to try. 

“Then sit tight, cause I just have to unpad, and then he’ll be back.” 

There was silence, which Alaska took for acquiescence. She kicked off her heels, stripped off her blue sequin dress, peeled her pantyhoes off and tossed her hip pads and breasts to the floor. 

And with that, Justin sank to the floor amongst the pile of identity he’d just stripped off, naked as the day he was born, grabbed the phone off the vanity, turned off speaker, and whispered to his ex-lover, “I’m Justin again, you can talk now.” 

“God, Justin, it was so terrible. I keep trying to stop thinking about it, but I just  _ can’t.  _ It’s still there. Every time I close my eyes.” Aaron’s voice was shaking, Justin knew he was crying, and that was it. That was all Justin could take. He gave in. 

“You know. The… the man who…” Aaron went on when Justin didn’t answer. 

“I know, baby, I know. You don’t have to say it.” Justin said, his voice soft and tender, all pretense of maintaining the distance they’d kept from each other since they broke up when Justin left for his tour thrown straight out the window. 

“It was the dream again. The same one. Where he won’t let me go and you don’t notice I’m gone and he takes me to his house and ties me up and Justin I can’t breathe.” 

“Yes you can, baby, you’re ok. You’re safe. I promise.” Justin said, falling into the role he’d played so many times before. Therapist, comfort, protector. 

Justin was the only one who knew Aaron had been sexually assaulted. It had been after a show at the club where they’d worked together. Some guy had followed Aaron to the parking lot, and Aaron had managed to text Justin for help before the guy knocked his phone out of his hands, and Justin had shown up before things had gotten too terrible, but the idea of what could have happened if he hadn’t managed to send that text, if Justin hadn’t shown up just in time, had haunted them both for the last five years. 

Aaron was sobbing openly now over the phone. “I wish you were here. I can’t stop shaking.” 

Justin curled up over himself, a pain in his chest like someone was stabbing him with a knife, his entire body throbbing with the effort of trying to hold it together for Aaron’s sake. “I wish I was too, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.” 

“No, I’m s-sorry. I shouldn’t have d-dumped you when you left for the tour, I take it back, I take it back, baby will you please take me back?” 

Justin hated himself so much that he wanted to vomit. He was evil, a villain, a selfish son of a bitch who put fame over love, and there was nothing he could do or say to excuse it. 

“You don’t mean that, baby. What about Chad? What about the tour?” 

“I don’t care. I l-love you.” Aaron said, and Justin could hear that right now, at this exact moment, he meant it. 

And he wanted to. He wanted to leave the tour and fly back to Pittsburg and go back to performing for practically nothing at their little club in the city and fall asleep in Aaron’s arms and hold him when he cried like this. 

“I love you, too.” Justin said, and he did. 

They didn’t say anything for a while, just cried, comforted by the fact that the other was listening, both pretending they could feel the other’s arms warm around them, could feel the other’s breath on their face. 

Eventually the crying stopped and they were just breathing in silence. “But you won’t leave the tour.” Aaron said. 

Justin looked up at his vanity, the lights around it still illuminating the otherwise pitch black dressing room, and then looked at the sequin dress crumpled on the floor next to his feet. And he knew he had to tell Aaron the truth. “No.” 

The word hung in the air between them like a lead weight. Like a knife to the chest. Like the memory of their last kiss, the day Justin got on a bus and let fame conquer everything else. 

“I don’t care.” Aaron said again, and this time he sounded like he meant it. “I’ll dump Chad, I’ll tell him I can’t do this anymore, and when you get home I’ll be waiting for you.” 

“Baby…” 

“I mean it. I will. I  _ love _ you.” 

There was a choice here. A choice between hope and despair, belief and skepticism, love and nothing. Justin had spent far too long choosing “nothing.” 

“I love you, too. I’ll see you when I get home.” Justin said. He didn’t know if he was lying. 

“See you then.” Aaron said, and hung up the phone. 

Justin slowly lowered his arm and let his phone drop to the floor. He hid his head in his hands for several minutes, but when he looked at his phone again, he saw he had a text from Leonard and knew it was time to go. 

When he stood and looked at himself in the vanity mirror, all he saw was a scrawny man with dust brown hair, blue eyes red and puffy, naked, sad, lonely, tired. 

_ This,  _ all around him, was “nothing.” And he wasn’t sure he could make himself believe in love again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments make my day!! <3


End file.
